The obligatory boobs shot, which was actually accidental. XD
This is my poetry/idea notebook.
Of course, I write in pencil, because I hate making mistakes I can't correct.
This is my seryus riter face. ;D
Writing has always been something I’m interested in. I was telling stories when I was four years old (I’m sure my mom still has the mermaid story her friend helped me write when I was five, I was part of her child development degree or something like that). I began writing them down when I was six, and not long after I became acquainted with typing them on the computer. By the time I reached middle school, I had my own folder on my family’s computer, for all the stories I’d written. It wasn’t until high school, however, that poetry became attractive to me.
It was Shakespeare’s sonnets that started it, but it wasn’t long before I began reading other poetry. Unlike novels, which I devoured at light speed, I could only consume a few poems at a time before I had to put the book down. They were like bite-sized writings for me, and I enjoyed them. I began writing them as a high schooler, of course it was absolute crap, but I think it helped my overall writing style to get the juvenile crap out of the way. ;D
These days I don’t write very much poetry, although in the past few weeks I’ve been doing it more. Sometimes in reaction to something, sometimes I just take a quiet moment and let words come to me. None of them are very good, but I am going to post a few here.
Screens
When weary words fall on blind eyes,
blinking in the monitors
between light and dark they come
Alive and alone, alien
To all but the dire dusks
Which call wildly for hope.
Sweetness, then,
for those left wounded and wary,
Ears deaf to all but the sullen chime,
The saucy smiling blandwives
With eyeless faces they grin and
Trap you with their sins.
Awaken! Oh, you
Who have toiled so thoughtlessly,
Concerned only with those odd sights and sounds
Which blink, as shadows, upon your tired screen.
Awaken, and look, see, and hear
Else you will be buried
In the meaningless life you have made.
Awaken, before it is too late to hear
The songs, the sky,
How clouds sing in silver harmony,
How water and wind flirt and giggle,
Free from the cage you’ve so carefully crafted.
Awaken, for they come
as each jaw slackens
and each mind slows
They step closer,
And once they’ve come
It will be
too
late.
Gulf
Think black
Slippery slicked brown and gumming green
Don’t mix, they said, and yet they sent down the spike
Dug deep into the darkling dirt
And struck the black with dime store machines and greedy dreams
Now the blood of decomposed dinosaurs spurts dark over the tears of the deep
And fish and birds and tiny trailing things gasp and shake under the suffocating sky.
Deep black no longer sleeps below
But spews festering sickness over the surface
As a pustulant wound that cannot be healed
But if you were pierced with knives and hooks and cruel barbs,
To have your blood, your plasma, your very marrow sucked from you
Then you might never cease to bleed.
To feed our relentless machines, spewing smoke and a belching acrid flames,
We suck our mother dry
As vampires on trusting prey.
Candy
Cloying sweetness brings aching memories
of desperate lonely nights
spent cramming dark sweets between my teeth.
Anger and sadness
trying to drown my bitter gall
in mallowcreme and chocolate.
Shouldering the weight of shame
cost more than any physical weight
I could ever carry.
And the hunger for love
is more gnawing
than any empty stomach could be.
The chasm inside me
was a ravaging beast that starved on loathing
as it ate my mind.
With acceptance it calmed,
and when my hunger eased,
the bitterness waned.
Still, on dark nights I remember,
the acrid bile rises
when the sweetness becomes overwhelming.
Vile and sugary thoughts
of lost nights of loneliness.
And that, as they say, is all.
MirrorMe 